


Lost

by charis2770



Series: Finding Vengeance...or is it Something Else? [33]
Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Aki is a BAMF again, Anal Sex, BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Bondage, Kidnapping, M/M, Obsession, Slash, Violence, Whipping, Yaoi, unhealthy bdsm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-15 12:54:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8057209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charis2770/pseuds/charis2770
Summary: Asami goes out to dinner with some old friends he'd met while at University. Friends of the man who had trained him to become a BDSM Master. Yeah, THOSE kinds of friends. When it starts to get really later and he hasn't come home, Akihito starts to get worried...





	1. It sure is getting late...

**Author's Note:**

> This all started when someone on my blog, askasamifeiandaki.tumblr.com, sent an ask saying they had a "cute" head canon that Aki and Feilong nearly lost Asami (or thought they did) and so started sleeping with an arm or a leg thrown over him all the time to make sure he was still there. Aki didn't like the suggestion at ALL. Then someone Asked how something like that could even happen and what would poor Akihito do, but of course by then the idea had already begun to form. See, it's almost ALWAYS my followers' fault that bad things happen to the poor boys. Not mine.
> 
> On top of those two Asks, a little earlier I'd gotten another Ask talking about a documentary that told of how underworld business rivals in Asia sometimes kidnap rivals and assault them sexually as a tactic to intimidate and break them, and wanted the boys to answer some questions about it. I may or may not have gone on a SMALL rant about sexual assault and how too often the victims are made to feel ashamed and that they should just not talk about it. Pretend it didn't happen. And that since male rape victims are somewhat rarer, there's not as much attention paid to them and that they're even more likely than females to stay quiet about it. This makes me furious.
> 
> Now don't panic, nobody is actually getting raped in this story! All of those things together just sort of combined to lead to this story being and thing that happened. Nothing bad ever seems to happen to Asami personally, except that he goes through a lot of emotional shit when bad things happen to people he cares about. I wanted to do something different here. I also wanted to illustrate that it isn't just men who abuse and hurt other people. And that Asami is only human and fallible. And I get so tired of poor Aki being the one always getting taken. This isn't a life or death situation, just a dangerous one, but for once, the shoe is on a different foot.

Consciousness returns slowly, sluggishly. His body feels heavy, as if all of it has been wrapped in wet wool. His head hurts abominably, and his tongue is thick and unresponsive in his mouth, which feels as dry as if he’d been attempting to eat sand. He can’t remember anything about where he is or how he got here. He shakes his head lightly to try to clear it, but his eyelids are still too heavy to drag themselves open. He wrestles with his brain, trying to recall something about the last few hours that might give him a clue.

 

Dinner and drinks, he remembers. A rare free night, with Akihito on an assignment while Feilong and Yoh had plans. He’d received a call earlier in the week from an old friend, saying he and a couple of their other old associates would be in Tokyo for a few days, and would love to catch up. The kind of old friend who knew a very great deal about his personal tastes, and shared them. Heinrich Kramer, or Master Wulf in certain circles, was someone he’d met at a club in London called Decadence not long after he’d graduated….both from University, and from his training. Ian had introduced them. His illness had been beginning to show by then, and he’d wanted to make sure he introduced Asami to as many of the “right people” as possible before he couldn’t anymore. 

 

Heinrich had been one of those people; tall, classically Aryan with blond hair and pale blue eyes to go with his fair skin, heavily muscled….he’d dressed at the clubs in military style, with tall jackboots, jodphurs, and a uniform jacket and cap. He looked like a typical thug from an old war movie, but it was impossible not to like him. He had a wry sense of humor, even about himself, or perhaps especially about himself. Once he’d gotten past the cliche of Heinrich’s club wear, which had taken approximately the few seconds it had taken the man to observe the way Ian’s protegee’s eyes had been tracking up his frame and to say,

 

“Ach! I look like a regular idiot in this getup, but so help me, my boy loves it so, how can I refuse? Besides,” he’d winked with a devilish twinkle and whispered very loudly, “it gets me laid.” He’d laughed at himself, and it had been impossible not to join in.

 

“I think you look very handsome, Master,” the young man at his side had protested loyally, lifting his chin and looking at Asami. That was how he’d met Alex, Heinrich’s collared, live-in submissive. Alex was from Birmingham, and a medical student. He’d been close to Asami’s age at the time, and when Heinrich had allowed Asami to play with him, proven to be one of the most depraved masochists he’d ever met, and one hell of a lot of fun.

 

He’s stayed in touch with them sporadically over the years, and had been pleased to learn that they were still together. He’d accepted their invitation gladly, and had met them and their party at Narisawa. How long ago had that been? He growls in frustration and forces himself to concentrate.

 

Heinrich and Alex had been accompanied by their friend Robert Elliott, an American who he’d never met before. And investment banker, and also part owner in a fetish club in San Francisco. There’d been another, someone else he knew years ago….

 

“Ah, you’re waking up, how nice.”

 

Of course. Gritting his teeth, he forces his lids open and tries to focus. The room sways sickeningly and his stomach rolls. Fighting the nausea, he battles for focus. Taking slow, deep breaths, he ignores his pounding skull and refuses to acknowledge the sickness. He opens his mouth, then pauses, licks his lips and tries again. The words obey him this time.

 

“Eva,” he snarls. 

 

He remembers the first time he’d seen her. 18 years old, and still new to all of it, he’d accompanied Ian to a play party at someone’s estate near Oxford. There had probably been 50 or 60 people there. He hadn’t been allowed to do anything but watch that night, but he hadn’t minded. Mistress Eva had been one of the guests. In her mid-twenties, she was a statuesque redhead in a black a black leather corset that cinched her waist down to less than 16 inches and had her lush breasts nearly spilling out of it. She’d worn a skirt so short it barely covered her ass and lace-up thigh-high boots with 6 inch heels. She’d led a pretty blond boy around by a leash on his hands and knees and used him as furniture and her ash tray. She’d been very beautiful, but Asami had found her off-putting in some way he hadn’t quite been able to put his finger on then. He’s fairly sure now that it had been because she was bat-shit crazy. She’d pestered Ian to let her play with him that night, exclaiming over how pretty he was. Ian had politely refused, explaining to her that his young friend was with him in training as his protegee, not as his sub, but she’d been difficult to deter. She’d pestered the both of them every time they’d run into her at a club, party or event for four years.

 

“Stay away from that woman, lad,” Ian had warned him later. “There’s something about her I don’t trust.”

 

“You don’t need to worry about that, sir. I know what you mean,” he’d said. 

 

He hadn’t been too pleased to see her at dinner, but she’d been nothing but charming. She’d even laughed about how she’d pursued him back then, joking that he must have thought her some kind of stalker. It had put him mostly at ease, as had the way she’d treated him with the respect due his experience in a way she never had those years ago, and congratulated him when, after Heinrich inquired about his personal life, he’d told them a little about Akihito and Feilong. Without mentioning their names, of course. He hadn’t asked them if they minded being talked about with his old friends, so he’d kept things general.

 

She was still pretty, into her 40’s now, though he suspected plastic surgery had more to do with that than nature or clean living. She’d downed more than a few drinks, and seemed a little unsteady after dinner, so he’d offered to drive her to her hotel. He’d given Suoh the night off and brought the BMW, preferring to keep a lower profile on a night like this. He remembers starting to feel dizzy as they’d reached his car. That’s where the memories end.

 

“You drugged me,” he states, rather unneccessarily, displeased with the way his words slur.

 

“Now, Ryuichi, don’t be mad,” she pouts. She’s pacing back and forth before him, watching him like a cat. He waits until her pacing brings her close, then lunges. He’s stopped short, gagging, by the collar around his neck, and bites back an exclamation of pain as his shoulders wrench in their sockets. He becomes abruptly aware that he’s bound to an apparatus of some kind, his hands above his head. He looks down and realizes he’s shirtless. The pain, however, goes a long way towards clearing his mind, and he begins to take actual stock of his situation.

 

He’s in some kind of basement. The cinder block walls and lack of windows seem to verify this. It’s been turned into a dungeon, with a spanking bench to his left and a set of stocks to his right. It’s a St. Andrew’s Cross he’s bound to. Leather cuffs are locked around his wrists, and this thick collar around his neck is secured to it in some way as well. Pegboard on one wall holds over a dozen small hooks displaying various toys with which he’s familiar. He looks down and is relieved to see that he’s still wearing his pants, if not his shoes or socks. His ankles aren’t bound. There’s a plain wooden staircase leading up on the far side of the room. Boxes and plastic storage crates line the wall behind it, probably containing the personal things one usually finds in a basement. Someone’s home, then. He turns his attention back to his captor. 

 

“Let me go, Eva. Now,” he says, keeping his voice calm and his temper under control.

 

“Oh, don’t say that, you lovely man. That wouldn’t be any fun at all,” she replies, pouting a little. 

 

“If you release me now, I won’t press charges,” says Asami. It won’t help the situation to make threats, and he doesn’t want to make her aware of the scope of his reach if she isn’t already. 

 

“By the time I’m done with you, you’re not going to want to,” she purrs. He becomes aware of another detail; the single-tailed whip she’s running through her fingers as she prowls around in her stiletto heels, looking at him like he’s candy. “You’re going to want to do anything I tell you to. I’ve been waiting for this chance since the first night I saw you with Ian. Such a lovely boy. So wide-eyed and fresh. Men like you only need the right kind of...encouragement...to be taught how to kneel for me.”

 

It’s probably not wise, but he laughs. He can’t help it. She stops smiling at him. The whip’s movement is as fast as thought, and he hisses when a line of fire blossoms across his chest.

 

“You’ll show me respect,  _ boy, _ ” she spits, “or you will suffer for it.”

 

The new pain pushes the fog back even further and he looks at her face more closely. Her green eyes glitter dangerously. In them, he sees nothing sane. He could actually be in a little bit of trouble.

  
  


Akihito waits up for Asami, although he doesn’t fix dinner tonight, since he knows Asami had been meeting some of his old lifestyle friends for dinner and drinks tonight at some fancy restaurant. Part of him wishes he’d been able to go. It had been really interesting to meet the man they’d had lunch with the day Asami had taken him to work. But it had been awkward too, especially when the man had been curious about why Asami “allowed” him so much freedom. His chest warms when he remembers how Asami had defended him that day, telling the man that Aki was perfect for him just the way he was. But Asami has promised to introduce him to Heinrich and Alex before they leave town, if Akihito wants to meet them, in a less formal setting. He thinks that will probably be better. Formal situations always make him feel a little like a bumpkin. 

 

He’s not worried when midnight comes and goes. They have a lot of catching up to do, he’s sure. Asami had said he hasn’t seen his friends since they got married….well, registered their partnership...in 2001 when Germany made it legal. Gay people still can’t get legally married there, but same-sex partnerships can be registered which give couples the same rights as married people, for the most part. They can even adopt, which Asami had told him earlier the two men were discussing. It’s even legal in the United States now. There’s not nearly as much discrimination here as he’s heard there is there. He wonders when the stupid government is going to wake up and change their stupid laws.

 

“Am I really thinking about  _ marrying _ Asami?” he wonders, a little shocked at himself. It had really been what Asami had said about his friends, and about how in Germany registered same sex couples are a legal thing. He realizes this isn’t as forward-thinking as allowing marriage, and that it is still a kind of discrimination to make people have to call it something else just because they’re both the same sex, but the term itself is less intimidating to him. Being Asami’s partner doesn’t sound as weird as being his husband. People would call him Asami’s wife, even if Asami never would, not anymore. Maybe...maybe partners wouldn’t be as scary. 

 

“Geez, Akihito, get a grip,” he mutters, shaking his head. He glances at his phone and sees that it’s now past 1 A.M. He bites his lip. He doesn’t want to come off seeming insecure or jealous or anything. But they’ve been able to be more honest with each other lately…. He makes up his mind and taps out a quick text.

 

_ “Having a good time? :-)” _

 

There, that’s a harmless enough message. Especially with the smiley added at the end to show he really means it, and isn’t being sarcastic. He’s not expecting an instant reply, but after 15 minutes, he starts to get worried.

 

_ “Everything ok?” _

 

When his second message isn’t answered, he makes up his mind that he doesn’t care if it annoys the man a little. Maybe it’s just too loud wherever Asami is for him to hear his text notification, which is short, and only makes his phone vibrate once. He presses the button on his phone that dials Asami’s number directly and presses the call button. Asami’s rich voice comes on the line immediately, instructing the caller to leave their name and number and Asami will call them back. Aki drops to the sofa with a thud, his phone sliding from nerveless fingers, staring straight ahead. His brain doesn’t seem to want to work. The  _ only _ time any of them  _ ever _ turns their phone off is when they’re all safe at home together and don’t want to be disturbed. He tries to tell himself it’s probably just some kind of a fluke, and tries again, getting the same result.

 

“Maybe there’s just not coverage where he is,” he mutters to himself, but he can’t imagine where that could be, or why. He’s used to not knowing exactly where Asami is. He doesn’t keep track of the man, for fuck’s sake, but Asami’s never completely out of touch. He’ll let Aki know when he plans to be home, or gives him a heads up when meetings run late. He can’t shake the increasing certainty that something is wrong.

  
  
  


“Come now, Ryuichi,” coaxes Eva, false sympathy dripping off her tongue like venom, “it’s not so hard. You can say it, and then we’ll have some fun.”

 

“It will not happen,” says Asami coolly. It does require a small amount of effort on his part to keep his voice steady and calm. At least a dozen vicious welts mark his upper body, and they’re all smarting like the very devil, but they’re not the reason. Asami knows how to handle pain. He’s not enjoying it, but he can deal with it. What makes it hard is the rage pounding against the inside of his skull, screaming at him to let it out.

 

“So  _ stubborn _ ,” laments Eva. The whip slices out again, and he’s unable to contain a soft grunt of pain when the lash catches his left nipple, which seems to ignite in pain, feeling almost as if she’s ripped it off. “Come on now, being punished  _ this _ way just hurts so _ much. _  Just two simple little words, and I’ll be able to stop hurting you this way.”

 

She’s been goading him for the same response for quite some time. Whatever she’d managed to slip into one of the two drinks he’d had tonight hadn’t just rendered him unconscious, it had messed with his short term memory for a while. Probably Rohypnal, but there are a few other possibilities as well. He has no idea how long he’d been unaware, or what else he may have forgotten, or what time it is. Akihito is bound to be worried about him by now. He grits his teeth and glares at her. It’s getting harder and harder to keep a rein on his temper, but he knows very well that goading someone who is delusional could be dangerous. 

 

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I can’t give you what you want. Eva, I’m not submissive. You can’t turn me into one. Stop this, and let me go.”

 

“I saw how you looked at me that first night, Ryuichi,” she preens. “You wanted me. I know you still do. Just give me what I want, pretty boy. You can do it. I don’t like hurting you this way.”

 

This is probably the most blatant lie he’s ever heard in his life. She likes hurting him. Likes it a  _ lot. _ Her pupils are dilated, her breasts (what he can see of them over the top of her corset, which is most of them) are flushed and heave with her heavy breathing. Her tongue slips out to sweep over her lips with a frequency that increases every time she strikes him. He doesn’t respond this time, just watches her steadily. He doesn’t flinch when the single tail slashes across his chest again. He won’t tell her he’s had worse, it would only encourage her to try harder, and probably with something more vicious than what she’s using now.

 

“I’ll hear the words, you stubborn boy,” she sneers, “even if I have to do this all night. Give in. ‘Yes, Mistress.’ That’s all you have to say.”

 

He closes his eyes and leans his head back against the center bar of the cross.

  
  


Akihito calls Feilong’s cell phone. The tone in his voice when he answers after the fifth ring tells Aki he’d either been asleep or occupied when it rang. He doesn’t waste time with an apology.

 

“Something’s wrong with Asami,” he cries, knowing his fear is evident in his voice, but he can’t help it. Asami is so much larger than life that he’s never even been able to conveive of anything bad happening to him. Feilong’s voice clears immediately.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“He hasn’t come home from his dinner with his friends from Germany. He’s not answering texts, and his phone goes straight to voicemail.”

 

“Do you think you can try to reach those friends? Yoh and I will come home immediately, of course, but it will take us a little while to get there.” Feilong and Yoh had gone to spend the night at an onsen just outside the city, because Feilong finds them very therapeutic and romantic.

 

“I’ll try,” says Aki, wracking his brain for the name of the hotel Asami had mentioned they were staying at.

 

“You do that. I’ll call Kirishima and Suoh. They’ll beat us there. You know you can count on them, Akihito. If you find him, don’t wait for us….but do make sure you wait for  _ them. _ ”

 

“I will,” whispers Aki, squeezing the phone so hard it’s making his fingers go numb. “And I’ll keep you updated.”

 

“Do that. I’ll see you soon. And Aki?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“We will find him. He’ll be fine.”

 

Akihito hangs up the phone and thinks again, now that he can devote his whole brain to it. He knows Asami had dropped the name of the hotel where his friends are staying, but he hadn’t really been paying attention to that kind of detail. He closes his eyes and tries to replay the conversation, Asami getting ready for work that morning, standing in front of the mirror while he tied his tie, his back to Akihito, who had been sitting on the bed, watching his face in the mirror.

 

“....They’ll be here for a few more days, so I’m sure we can arrange for a time for you to meet them, if you decide you want to. They’re staying at the Mandarin Oriental, so perhaps we can drop by tomorrow.”

 

Feverishly, he looks up the hotel’s information and taps the call link. 

 

“Mandarin Oriental Tokyo, how may I help you?” The desk clerk’s voice is friendly and helpful-sounding, despite the very late hour.

 

“Heinrich Kramer’s room please,” he replies.

 

“One moment please.”

 

There’s a pause, while the phone repeats an electronic beep into his ear over and over again. Aki is almost dancing with impatience by the time the line is picked up. A very sleepy sounding, gruff voice answers, in a language Akihito can’t understand. He’s pretty sure it’s German though. Oh no. Speaking as slowly and clearly as he can, he says,

 

“This is Takaba Akihito speaking. Please...do you speak Japanese?”

 

“Little,” replies the voice with a barely-comprehensible accent. “Wait.”

 

Another pause includes. Aki can feel tears of frustration in his eyes as he resists his desire to scream at the man to hurry up. Another voice comes on the line, and this time the man is perfectly intelligible even though he’s obviously foreign.

 

“This is Alex, Heinrich’s partner. Can I help you?”

 

“My name is Takaba Akihito...I’m a...friend of Asami Ryuichi. You were supposed to have dinner with him tonight?”

 

“Yes, and we did. It was so nice to see an old friend. Is this the photographer or the pain slut diva?”

 

If Akihito wasn’t so frightened and worried, this question would strike him as hysterically funny.

 

“The photographer. Please...what time did you get finished with dinner?”

 

He hears Alex say something to the other man, Heinrich, then he’s back.

 

“It was a little after 11. Why? Is something wrong?”

 

“I don’t know. I hope not. Asami hasn’t come home yet, and I’m really worried about him.”

 

Again, the man takes the phone away from his ear to talk to his partner. Aki hears the other man reply. Their voices have taken on rather tense tones.

 

“I’m sorry, Takaba. He should definitely have been there by now. He gave Eva a ride back to her hotel, because it was on the way home for him and in the opposite direction for us. Perhaps he stopped off there for a drink and they’ve lost track of time reminiscing?’

 

“His phone goes straight to voicemail,” cries Aki. “He wouldn’t...I’m sorry, but he would have sent me a message or called me if he was going to be this late. I’m very worried about him. Do you know where this Eva person is staying? Maybe I can talk to them?”

 

“I do have that information, and the number. Hold on just a moment.”

 

Aki writes down the name and number Alex gives him. The man tries to be reassuring.

 

“I’m sure it’s nothing bad. Maybe his battery has simply died, and he doesn’t realize it. I know Eva will clear everything up. Will you let us know when he’s safe and sound? Asami is a good friend.”

 

“Yes, I will. Thank you for your help. Sorry to bother you so late.”

 

“It’s quite all right. Good night, Takaba.”

 

“Bye.”

 

He knows the man had been trying to be encouraging, and that he and Heinrich probably think he’s gotten himself worked up for nothing, that Asami is where they say he is, but Aki knows there’s no way that’s true. Asami would have let him know. And there’s also no way his battery could have been dead this long without him noticing, or that if it had, Asami would have used a different phone to contact him. His hands are shaking a little when he calls the number he’s gotten from Alex. The desk clerk at this hotel sounds very much like the other one.

 

“Four Seasons Tokyo, how may I help you?”

 

“Eva Glasser’s room please.”

 

There’s another one of the pauses Akihito is growing to hate with a deep and abiding passion. But when it ends, the clerk is back on the line.

 

“I’m sorry, but Ms. Glasser is not in her room at this time.”

 

Aki’s stomach drops.

 

“Can you tell me if she’s been back since she left for dinner this evening? It would probably been some time around 7.”

 

“I’m afraid I’m not allowed to give out information about our guests, sir.”

 

“Please...this is an emergency!” His mind races as he thinks of what to say next. “My father had dinner with her and some other friends. I’ve spoken to them, and they said he gave her a ride back to her hotel afterwards. That was at about 11, but he hasn’t come home. Please, sir, I’m very worried about him!” Aki knows his voice often sounds a lot younger than he is, especially when he’s frightened, so he crosses his fingers. It works.

 

“I’m so sorry. I’m sure your father is okay. But no, she hasn’t been back. She left the hotel, as you say, right around 7, but she hasn’t returned. Have you tried his cell phone?”

 

“Yes, I have. Thank you.” Akihito doesn’t wait for the clerk’s reply. He hangs up the phone and wraps his arms around himself. What if they’ve been in an accident? Of course! He tries Tokyo General Hospital next, and is left on hold for an agonizing amount of time. As the person he’s speaking to in the Emergency room is finally letting him know that no one matching Asami’s description has been brought in tonight, Kirishima arrives.

 

Akihito fills him in on the situation, and on what he’s learned so far, which isn’t much. Sometime between leaving the restaurant close to four hours ago and now, Asami and the woman named Eva Glasser seem to have simply vanished.

 

“You’ve done well, Takaba-san,” says Kirishima when he finishes. “Don’t worry. We’re going to find him. Asami-sama drove the BMW tonight. We’ll track its GPS coordinates. Suoh and I will call you as soon as we find him.”

 

Ever efficient, and obviously concerned about his employer, Kirishima turns on his heel with that, and starts for the door. Akihito grabs him by the arm.

 

“Oh no you don’t,” he cries, his voice shrill with fear and anger. He hates that it does that, but he can’t seem to stop it. “You’re not leaving me behind! I’m coming with you!”

 

Kirishima opens his mouth to argue, then looks down into Akihito’s face for several moments, almost seeming to be searching for something in his eyes. To Aki’s surprise, he relents.

 

“Very well. But you must promise to do whatever I or Suoh-san tell you, without question.”

 

“Fine! Let’s just  _ go _ !”

 

They hurry down to the parking deck, where Suoh is waiting in the big black Mercedes GLS. Like the limo, it has a dash-mounted computer, but it’s less attention grabbing and more maneuverable. Kirishima climbs in front and immediately begins tapping the computer’s screen while Akihito scrambles into the back.

 

“He’s coming?” grunts Suoh, jerking his head in Aki’s direction. Akihito opens his mouth to retort, but surprisingly, Kirishima beats him to it.

 

“We would not have rescued Feilong and Yoh as easily without his help. He may be an asset.”

 

While Aki is still gaping in astonishment, Suoh grunts and nods, and they wheel slowly out of the parking deck.

 

“Why don’t you move faster,” he demands tensely, banging his fist urgently on the seat beside him.

 

“I must acquire the GPS signal first, and it takes a few seconds. Suoh cannot hurry yet, or he might be driving in the wrong direction,” replies Kirishima calmly, his fingers flying on the touch screen as the GPS app finishes opening and asks for input. Once he’s input the license number of the vehicle he wants to locate, a small clock face appears in the middle of the map of the city covering the screen. Aki stares at it between the two front seats, biting his lip. He remembers Feilong and lifts his phone to his ear, keeping his eyes glued to the screen.

 

“I found out when he left the restaurant. He gave some woman that ate with them a ride to her hotel, but they didn’t get there. I’m with Kirishima and Suoh now, and we’re going to track his car’s GPS….”

 

“Tell me as soon as you have it. We’re in the car, about 45 minutes out from downtown,” says Feilong. He sounds almost as tense as Akihito feels.

 

“Here it is!” Aki reads the address back to Feilong as Kirishima reads it to him off the screen, and the SUV lurches a little as Suoh steps on the gas. They keep the tracking app running as Suoh speeds through the city, in case the BMW moves. Traffic is lighter at this hour, but the streets of Tokyo are never empty, and they frequently have to slow down for other vehicles or traffic signals. Akihito is ready to scream. Oh, why can’t they move any faster?

  
  


Asami’s patience has worn far past thin, and he’s just about used up all his emergency backup reserve of it too. Almost every inch of skin from his collar bones down to the waistband of his pants is on fire. It’s not more than he can take. In fact, this crazy woman has only actually broken his skin in a handful of places, and they aren’t bleeding  _ much _ . But he’s really not enjoying it, and her continued insistence that she will break him to heel is laughable. He’s met a few dominants like her. Those who delude themselves into believing that  _ any _ one can be turned into a proper sub with the right motivation….that being when they themselves prove their natural dominance over the person and tame them. He’s perfectly aware that every human being has a breaking point. But being broken and being  _ turned into _ a sub who will grovel at their feet when they snap their fingers are vastly different, and such belief is not just ignorant, it’s stupid. He’s seen it a great deal more often in men. The ones who think a woman’s place is at a man’s feet. That all women really want a man who can conquer them, deep down, and all it will take is the right man to prove it to them. He’s met plenty of women in his life who he’s occasionally wished he could introduce to these particular sorts of idiots. One in particular, a Romanian transplant who owns a fetish club here in Tokyo, used to take delight in showing such men the error of their ways. She’s barely five feet tall, but he’d put money on her in a battle of wills with just about anybody in the world. Possibly even including himself, although he’ll never find out, because they have too much respect for one another to end up in such a battle. 

 

Aside from being in a certain amount of discomfort and nearing the end of his patience, he’s just so damned tired. The drug she’d slipped him hasn’t been kind to him, and though he doesn’t have any idea what time it is, he’s pretty sure it’s very late. His feet ache from standing in one place for so long, and his hands are cold from being held above his head. His circulation isn’t compromised, it’s just unpleasant. And the fucking collar around his neck chafes like a bitch. He’s nearly stopped listening to her, turning his brain instead for ways he might escape. The O-rings in the cross are quite secure. He’s been trying to carefuly twist his hands from side to side for a long time, to see if he can loosen either of them, but so far neither has budged. He’s leaned all his weight forward to test how heavy the cross is, trying to determine whether he might possibly balance it on his back if he bends forward at the waist, but it seems to be secured to the wall. Suddenly, something Eva says penetrates his thoughts.

 

“Poor stubborn boy. Look at you. So tired.” (He is, of course, but that’s not the reason he’d let his head drop forward a while ago. He’d just gotten tired of looking at her). “It’s only two little words. Not so hard. Give in, and I can turn you around so we can play the kinds of games you’ll enjoy.”

 

He’d wondered why she’d secured him with his back to the cross in the first place. It’s a great deal more common to use a whip on someone’s back than their front. He assumes it’s because most people have a much lower pain tolerance this way, and she’d hoped it would conquer his will sooner. She’s also apparently deluding herself into thinking that after she’s put him through all of this, he’s going to be in the mood to let her  _ play _ him. But none of that is the point.

 

Slowly, his head lifts. Amber eyes burn like coals about to burst back into flame when new fuel is added. One courner of his mouth very slowly curves upwards. His voice is a low growl, dripping with anticipation. 

 

“Yes,  _ mistress _ ,” he hisses. It galls him to say it, but hasn’t he told Akihito on the occasions he’s made his all-too-frequently targeted little lover sit down and be lectured about what to do if he’s taken again.

 

“Give them what they want, if you can, when it’s less dangerous than witholding it. You’ll stay whole and alive longer if your captors think you’re cooperating. They’ll also be more likely to get careless, if they think they’ve broken you.”

 

Practically simpering with delight, Eva trips over to the pegboard wall and hangs up the whip, then turns and sashays towards him.

 

“What a  _ good _ boy,” she croons. “Now, was that so hard? Oh, I’m going to have such fun with you, Ryuichi, just wait and see.” 

 

He waits until she stops right in front of him, her fingers reaching eagerly for the front of his pants.

 

“If it’s all the same to you,” he says coolly, “I’d rather not.”

 

With that, he lifts both feet off the floor at the same time, bearing his weight on the cuffs securing him to the cross. Bending almost in half, he uses his spine as a spring to raise his hips almost even with her face and wraps his legs around her neck, locking his ankles together behind her head.

 

She shrieks in shocked denial. Her hands come up to scrabble uselessly at his thighs. She digs in with her long, pointed fingernails, angrily ordering him to let her go at once. He ignores the small pain of her nails gouging into the muscles of his legs, he starts squeezing.

 

“Keys,” he snaps.

 

“Let...me go...and I’ll give them to you,” she gasps. He laughs.

 

“Do you think I’m stupid? Unlock the cuffs.  _ Now _ .” She tries to bargain with him again, so he squeezes a little harder. Her face is quite red now, and her grip on his legs is weakening. Abruptly, as he’s opening his mouth to demand his release again, her eyes roll back in her head and she goes completely limp in his grasp. He stares at her for several seconds, trying to determine whether she’s faking it or not, but not even when he squeezes even harder with his legs does she react. He’s reasonably sure she’s still breathing, but not positive. Slowly, he lets her body drop to the floor and looks down at her, then up at the cuffs locked to the cross.

 

“Well  _ fuck/ _ ”

 


	2. And Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cavalry to the rescue! And what happens when they get there...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a pretty intense flogging scene in this one, so just...y'know, be warned.

The tracking app leads them to a detached, single family home in Machida, a suburb of Tokyo. Unlike the metropolitan area, the residential neighborhood  _ is _ virtually deserted. All of the lights are out in the modest two-story house, and the BMW is nowhere to be seen.

 

“Where is it? It’s supposed to be here!” Aki looks around wildly, panic trying to rise up and choke him. “Is that app broken?”

 

“Garage,” growls Suoh, whereupon Akihito realizes that the house does indeed have a garage, and quite an obvious one. He feels his face grow hot. This is not how someone who may be an asset in a rescue acts!

 

“S-sorry,” he mutters. “I’m just really worried about him. Guess I’ve been living in the city too long. The only kinda garages we have there are parking garages.”

 

Kirishima turns in his seat to pin Aki with a stern look.

 

“I’m going to get out of this vehicle and do a perimeter check. I want you to stay here with Suoh and watch the street. I know you’re very quiet, Takaba-san, but you’re not armed, and you don’t know the things I know about what to look for as viable entry points on a house like this, or how to assess what...or who...may be inside it. You have my word that I won’t do more than that.”

 

“Okay,” says Akihito, not entirely happy with Kirishima’s instructions, but having to agree with what he says. He’s plenty good at sneaking around and climbing and peeking into windows, but he recognizes that when it comes to a house like this, potentially with people living in it, there would be a lot of things he wouldn’t know how to do. Like being sure of how many bedrooms there are, and what kinds of locks are on all the entrances and whether there’s a security system and...and probably a dozen more things he can’t think of and never would. Kirishima slips from the vehicle. Suoh has turned off all of the interior lights and the overhead, so that he’s able to do so in darkness. 

 

Waiting for him to come back is some of the worst time Akihito has ever spent in his life. While he’s gone, Suoh does a records search on the property. Aki finds this surprising, as he’s always thought Kirishima was the only computer whiz between Asami’s two most trusted employees.

 

“I didn’t know you could do that,” he says, leaning forward to watch the screen. Suoh grunts at him, and Aki sighs. The big man’s fingers slow for a moment and he glances at the young man in the back seat. One shoulder lifts almost imperceptibly.

 

“Kei showed me how, and gave me the passwords he hacked from a realty company,” he offers, surprising Akihito. 

 

“Oh. Okay. Suoh?”

 

This time the grunt sounds at least sort of interrogative, so he goes on.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Doing my job,” says Suoh.

 

“I know, but...you don’t have to be as good at it as you are. And...you’ve put up with a lot from me, and I know you don’t...really have any reason to like me. So I just wanted to say it.”

 

“It’s rented,” the muscular blond responds. “To Eva Constance Glasser. Lease was signed two weeks ago.” Before Akihito can say anything about this news, Suoh surprises him by continuing. “I didn’t at first. Considered you a liability. Thought the boss took dangerous risks for you.”

 

“I know. I’m sorry for that. It put you and Kirishima in danger sometimes too.”

 

“That doesn’t matter. It’s our job. Doesn’t matter now. He’s happy.”

 

“Kirishima?”

 

“The boss. You make him happy. He was getting cold. Hard, like his father. He’s not anymore. We know most of that’s you, Kei and me. You did real good that night. Rescuing Yoh. He’s my friend.”

 

“I didn’t know that,” says Aki, surprised.

 

“Helped train him, when the boss hired him. Whatever you need, Takaba-san. You have my gun. My hands. I’ll have your back, just ask.”

 

Akihito kind of wishes he could hug Suoh right now, but the angle is too awkward from the back seat, and he doesn’t think Suoh would like it very much anyway. It’s the most words he’s ever heard the man string together at one time. He blinks rapidly to stop his eyes from tearing up when they start to sting. He lays a hand on one broad shoulder and squeezes. Suoh nods.

 

“So...so if that woman rented this house, why was she staying at the Four Seasons,” he wonders, because he can tell that Suoh considers the other subject closed.

 

“Good question. Come on.” He opens his door and gets out of the car. Aki hurries to catch him.

 

“Why aren’t we waiting for Kirishima?” he whispers as they head towards the darkened house.

 

“Now we know there’s not a family inside. Only one name on the lease.”

 

He’s not sure he understands exactly what Suoh needs, but follows in his footsteps, moving silently, proud that he’s even quieter than the highly trained bodyguard, until they locate Kirishima on the back side of the house. Suoh tells him what they’re discovered. Kirishima frowns.

 

“What does it mean?” Akihito hopes he’ll have better luck getting a more enlightening explanation from him. 

 

“It means she’s the one behind this. She planned it,” says Kirishima absently, frowning at the house.

 

“But why?” It’s more of a rhetorical question than anything.

 

“Let’s find out if she’s home. And we’ll ask her,” replies Kirishima. He and Suoh both draw their guns and he gives Aki a rather ferocious smile. “Stay close behind me, Takaba-san, and be as silent as we know you can be. If there is trouble, get down, and out of the way. If one of us tells you to run, you  _ run. _ You know the code for the SUV?”

 

“Yes,” says Akihito a little breathlessly. Several of Asami’s cars don’t have keys, or even fobs that could be cloned, but operate exclusively by coded entry and ignition. Asami has made sure he knows what it is, just in case he ever needs it.

 

“Good. If something goes wrong, and you’re told to run, then run to the SUV and get out of here. Get to safety, and then find Feilong-san and Yoh. Understood?”

 

“I understand.”

 

Kirishima nods, and then leads the two of them around to the side of the house, where there is a door which isn’t visible from the street, being concealed by some bushes. Aki doesn’t ask questions. He assumes Kirishima has deemed this door the most convenient point of entry, and waits impatiently while the other man bends down and picks the lock quickly and efficiently, the way he does everything. Then he steps back. Suoh takes his place. He puts one hand on the doorknob and holds up his other hand in a fist. Aki knows this means wait. Suoh is the one who goes through doors first, almost always. He turns the knob and pushes the door open slowly. All remains quiet, so he steps into the house and is immediately lost from sight.

 

“Clear,” comes his voice moments later, very softly. 

 

Kirishima nods at Akihito and follows him inside. It’s darker inside the house than outside, where the moon offers some illumination, so they pause for a few seconds to let their eyes adjust. Aki looks about him when he can. The house is nondescript. It doesn’t have a lived-in feel, despite the fact that it is furnished comfortably enough. There are no houseplants, no photographs, no sign of any personal touches anywhere in the room where they’ve entered. It’s the kitchen, but it has no smells of cooking, not even old ones. There’s always a faint odor in a regularly used kitchen, of oil used for sauteing or frying, of spices...unless it’s been recently cleaned really thoroughly, of course. This one hasn’t. He can’t smell antiseptic or any other kind of household cleansers either. Suoh and Kirishima split up to clear the ground floor, and Kirishima jerks his head, indicating that Akihito should follow Suoh. He sticks to the blond giant like a shadow, and follows silently as Suoh slowly moves from room to room, his gun pointed in front of him each time he steps through a doorway, finger alongside the trigger guard, and pointed at the ceiling once he’s sure each room is empty. Every room has the same uninhabited feel as the kitchen, and the one bed they see doesn’t appear to have been slept in recently.

 

They meet back up with Kirishima in the kitchen. All the rooms he’d checked are clear too.They move together to the stairs and repeat the process with the upstairs. In one of the bedrooms there, they find a dress and some undergarments tossed carelessly on the bed, and a pair of high-heeled sandals on the floor beside it. Shoes beside a bad seem strange to Akihito. On the bedside table, he sees something that glints faintly in the moonlight coming through the window. He taps Suoh’s shoulder and points to it. Suoh retrieves Asami’s car keys with their BMW key fob. All three of them share a grim look.

 

“She changed clothes here,” muses Kirishima. “So where is she now?”

 

“Basement door at the back of this stair,” offers Suoh, as it’s located in the half of the downstairs he and Akihito have checked. Kirishima nods, and they head back down the stairs. When they reach the basement door, Suoh turns it very slowly, testing to find out if it is locked. It isn’t. He catches first his partner’s and then Akihito’s eye and lifts his eyebrows. Kirishima nods, readying his pistol. Aki nods too, readying his....oh! He brightens, and pulls the small can of pepper spray Asami had insisted some months ago that he carry with him at all times. He’s gratified when neither of Asami’s men admonish him to be careful with it. Suoh opens the door.

 

Dim light from the basement below allows them to see the stairs well enough. Aki can smell the quintessential smells of damp, touched by faint mold and mildew that are the trademark smells of basements. Underneath that though, he smells something even more familiar. He’d recognize it anywhere, for the Pavlovian way his body tightens in anticipation as it reaches his nostrils. Urgently, he taps Suoh on the shoulder. Both men turn to look at him, eyebrows raised in question. Akihito steps back, away from the door, gesturing at them to follow. When they’ve moved several feet away from the open doorway, they both lean down so that he can whisper the information he wishes to convey.

 

“Somebody made a dungeon down there,” he breathes. Suoh frowns.

 

“How do you know that?” asks Kirishima.

 

“I smelled it as soon as you opened the door. Leather, and...the stuff you use to clean it and condition it, and wood. Lumber, I mean. But mostly leather.” He supposes it might be a little easier for him to identify what he smells because he knows the people Asami had gone to dinner with earlier are all the kinds of people who’d be likely to  _ have _ personal dungeons and play rooms in their houses. It sheds  _ some _ light on why this Eva woman had rented this house, but what is she doing with Asami? Has she kidnapped him to make him spank her? 

 

“Very good, Takaba-san,” Kirishima whispers in response. Aki can’t tell if he’s being placating or not, because the information probably doesn’t change anything that  _ he _ can think of, but he doesn’t sound like that’s what he’s doing.

 

“I don’t guess it’s really much help,” he mutters with a shrug. “I just...thought maybe you ought to know?”

 

“It does help, actually. It makes it a great deal less likely that the woman took Asami to kill or ransom him, and  _ probably _ means she is somewhat less dangerous than we’d feared. Still, we will proceed with the same caution as if we are expecting armed enemies, understand?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“All right, Suoh, lead the way,” says Kirishima. They return to the open basement door. Suoh puts his back to the hand rail which will put him facing the direction the light is coming from, and begins to ease his way down the stairs. Kirishima and Akihito follow him. Although both Suoh and Kirishima are a few steps ahead of him, Akihito sees the scene in the basement first, since he’s not concerned with paying attention to where a gun is pointing, and bends over as far as he can, so that he can see into the small private dungeon first, peering beneath the floor of the house as soon as they’ve travelled down enough stairs. It also helps that he’s shorter than both of them.

 

“Asami!” he cries. Suoh and Kirishima both swivel their heads to glare at him, but he ignores them, pushing anxiously at Kirishima to make them hurry. Due in part to his urgency and in part to the fact that there’s no longer any point in being quiet after that outburst, they rush down into the basement, weapons pointed, then stop short, staring in shock at the scene that awaits them. Akihito ignores them, and rushes past them, his only thought to reach Asami  _ right now. _

  
  
  


Asami freezes in the act of attempting to search the unconscious Eva Glasser’s cleavage for her keys with his toes. It is now the only place on her body that the keys could possibly be concealed due to the tightness of her clothing after he’d spent an indeterminate and agonizing amount of time unzipping her boots the same way. The only good that had come from it is that he’s managed to sweat most of the rest of the drug out of his system. He cocks his head to the side and listens intently. He hears it again. The faintest creak of a floorboard. It could very well be nothing more than the house settling, but he can’t be sure. Every muscle in his body sings with tension. He’s completely defenseless unless someone else makes the same mistake Eva had, and considering her slumbering (he has managed to determine that she’s still breathing) form at his feet, he can’t imagine anyone doing that. If this is someone’s house, do they know what she’s doing down here? Did she have a partner? He grits his teeth, furious with himself. His guard had been down tonight because he’d believed himself to be among friends. The lifestyle community has never represented a threat to him. He’s always considered it the one group of people among whom he could be more himself than he is with anyone except Feilong and Akihito. He hadn’t overindulged. He only does that in the complete safety of his own home. But he also hadn’t kept his hand on his own drink every moment, as he does with everyone else he ever has a cocktail with. Careless. And if whatever friend of Eva’s owns this house comes down to the basement and sees what will likely appear to them to be her lifeless body on the floor, he’ll be completely unable to stop them from doing whatever they want to do to him. He thinks of Akihito and Feilong, by themselves and surely frantic with worry by now, with no clue where he is, and places the blame squarely on his own shoulders. 

 

He has almost decided that the sound he’d heard had been a normal house sound after all, and let out the breath he’s been holding, when he hears the basement door open. He tenses again, vibrating with rage, his powerful body straining against his restraints. For what seems like an eternity, nothing happens. Then he sees feet appear on the top step. Black shoes, black pants. The feet begin to ease down the stairs. They’re followed by another, slightly smaller pair of nearly identical shoes and pants. His pulse races. He’s heard it said that some people can commit feats of superhuman strength in emergencies, fueled by their adrenaline. If it’s true, perhaps he’ll be able to yank this entire cursed apparatus out of the wall and hurl himself at them, using its weight combined with his own to knock them down. Then a  _ third _ pair of shoes appears. He freezes, blinks, and tries to focus more clearly on those shoes. 

 

Unlike the other two, the third pair are a battered pair of trainers. They’d probably once been white, but are scuffed and stained a dirty grey from hard use climbing trees, sprinting down alleys, and jumping off buildings. They’re laced with a pair of too-long shoelaces printed with tiny Pikachu characters on them, interspersed with red and white Pokeballs. He only knows these two words because the owner of the tennis shoes had explained them to him when he’d asked why the shoelaces had bright yellow rabbits on them. He’d recognize Akihito’s trainers anywhere. Then his pet’s bright, sunshine mop of hair and his upside-down face peers under the edge of the ceiling as he bends over to see what awaits them in the basement. His name on Akihito’s lips is one of the best things he’s heard in a long time. Kirishima and Suoh rush the rest of the way into the basement, turning instinctively back to back so that they can cover the entire room with their guns. Aki ignores them, and flies across the concrete floor towards him, his face lighting up with joy.

 

“Asami,” he cries again, “we found you! I was so worried! Are you okay? Are…” He stops short a couple of feet away from the motionless form on the floor, eyes going wide. “Oh shit. Is she...is she dead?”

 

“No,” says Asami, his voice uncomfortably hoarse. “She’s not dead. I haven’t decided whether I’m going to change that once I’m free of this wretched cross.”

 

“Asami…” Aki’s voice sounds thin and frightened. Asami sighs heavily.

 

“I’m not going to kill her. Apparently my joking face is harder to recognize after I’ve been slipped a Mickey and worked over by delusional bitches in leather. Suoh, will you secure that woman please? I’d do it myself, but I’m a little...ha...tied up at the moment.”

 

Reassured by Asami’s ability to crack jokes, Akihito’s concern reorients onto him again. He sidles nervously around Eva’s body even as Suon strides forward to pick her up effortlessly, and finishes hurrying to Asami’s side. His hands hover above the welts on Asami’s body for a moment, then he reaches up to stroke trembling fingers over his face.

 

“I was so scared something had happened to you,” he whispers.

 

“As you can see, something did happen to me,” says Asami irritably. “But nothing life threatening. She didn’t want to kill me, she just wanted to tame me.”

 

Aki’s eyes widen again and he looks over his shoulder at Suoh, carrying Eva over his shoulder like the proverbial sack of potatoes. 

 

“Wow, she really  _ is _ crazy isn’t she?”

 

“As a sack of ferrets. Akihito, I don’t mean to complain, because I am truly very grateful for the rescue, but would you mind looking for the keys? I can’t feel my fingers very well anymore.”

 

“Oh! Shit, I’m sorry. Um.” He looks around the room. “Any ideas?”

 

“I’m pretty sure they’re not on her person, unless she shoved them up one of her body cavities, but beyond that, I have no idea. I’m sorry, you’ll just have to look. I’ve had a very long night and my brain isn’t being as cooperative as I’d like.” Asami leans his head back against the cross and lets the tension that has kept him strung tight as a piano wire since he’d regained consciousness start to drain away. Akihito and Kirishima busy themselves searching the basement for keys, which Aki finds hanging from one of the metal hooks in the pegboard wall. Hurriedly, he brings them to the cross and goes up on tiptoe to unlock the padlock at Asami’s right wrist. When it’s released, his arm drops heavily to his side and refuses to move again. Working quickly, Akihito unlocks the left wrist and ducks behind the cross to release the one behind his neck. 

 

Asami glares down at his hands where they dangle uselessly by his sides. Kirishima takes his left hand and begins to gently massage his hand and arm. Aki takes his cue from this and goes to work on the other one.

 

“Thanks,” murmurs Asami, wincing as tins and needles prickle to life under his skin.

 

“What else can I do? Do you need something to drink? A blanket?” Akihito’s hazel eyes gaze up into his face with concern. Asami huffs out a soft laugh.

 

“I’m not experiencing sub drop,” he says, attempting to give Aki a smile but fairly sure it comes across as more of a grimace. “I’m just tired and stiff and have a truly epic headache.”

 

“DId she really  _ roofie _ you?” Aki’s voice sounds incredulous. 

 

“Something like that,” snaps Asami, which comes out sounding more irritable than he intends. The feeling has returned to his hands and arms fairly quickly. She hadn’t, after all, cut off his circulation, but he’d done it to himself often enough pulling against his bonds to try to break them, and he’d simply had his arms above his head for too long a time. He pulls his hands free from Akihito and Kirishima and, abruptly finding them unbearable, he tears at the restraints, unbuckling them more clumsily than he likes and dropping them. With a snarl, he takes off the collar. This, he hurls across the room.

 

“I should attend to your injuries, sir,” says Kirishima, his voice as calm and unflappable as ever. Asami glances down at his torso with scorn.

 

“These aren’t injuries,” he scoffs. “She didn’t hurt me. Most of this will be gone tomorrow. The rest, a day or two at most.”

 

Kirishima doesn’t look pleased, but he’s familiar enough with the look in Asami’s eye to know better than to press it. He sighs.

 

“What would you have of me then, sir?”

 

Asami opens his mouth to answer, but at that moment, Suoh returns, accompanied by Feilong and Yoh, clattering down the stairs. Feilong rushes to his side. He hisses through his teeth when Feilong throws his arms around him in a hug that presses their bodies together tightly. Feilong lets go and steps back, chagrined. 

 

“It’s all right. I’m all right,” says Asami, cupping Fei’s cheek in his hand and doing his best to give him a real smile. 

 

“I’m relieved to see it,” says Feilong softly. His eyes track Asami’s body, taking in the angry whip marks, but he’s a great deal more experienced with their like than Kirishima will ever be, and can see for himself that Asami really  _ is _ all right. Physically, anyway. There’s still rage pouring off him in almost tangible waves. Asami turns to Suoh.

 

“What have you done with her?” he demands.

 

“She’s still out,” rumbles the big man. “I secured her in the downstairs bedroom.” He then echoes Kirishima’s question from minutes ago.

 

“Take her back to her hotel,” says Asami abruptly. 

 

“But….but shouldn’t we call the police?” cries Akihito anxiously. 

 

“So that I can experience the joys of having this experience made public?” asks Asami drily. 

 

“Oh. Um,” is all Aki can think of in response. Of course Asami doesn’t want that. Neither does he, when he thinks about it. He doesn’t even like seeing it for himself. The marks on Asami’s perfectly sculpted body seem obscene to him, like some kind of sacrilege. “But you can’t just let her get away with this!”

 

“I have no intention of that.” Asami’s answering grin is wolfish, his teeth flashing white and vicious. “Kirishima, make copies of all the personal information she has on her, and anything you find in her hotel room. She’ll be blackballed, of course. I may not be active in the same circles anymore, but my name carries weight, and Heinrich will see to it. She’ll find herself outcast from every club that matters, every organization with a hint of legitimacy to its name. As for the rest, begin an investigation into her finances. Oh, and find out if she has any more of the drug she slipped me on her person or in her room at the hotel, and if she does, make sure the police receive an anonymous tip to that effect. I think that will do for now.”

 

As they turn to go, Asami steps to Yoh and lays a hand on his arm.

 

“Yoh...would you mind going with them? I need…”

 

“Say no more,” Yoh interrupts him. He gives Feilong and quick kiss and follows Kirishima and Suoh up the stairs without another word.

 

“I never paid him enough,” murmurs Asami, watching them go. 

 

“Did you know,” muses Feilong, also tracking his lover’s departure with his dark eyes, “that he didn’t keep any of the salary you paid him for the last several years he was working for you?”

 

“He what?”

 

“Well, I was paying him fairly well myself. He told me about it about a month ago. He donated it all to a youth shelter in the town where he grew up. He said he didn’t feel right, knowing he was in love with me, trying to find a way to be loyal to us both. So he gave it away, thinking it might help other kids who were growing up the way he had.” 

 

“That’s so cool,” whispers Aki. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of Asami since he’s set foot in this basement. Asami nods absently in agreement, but he’s not really paying attention. Suddenly unable to bear standing in one place, he turns his back on them and stalks away. He prowls the basement, one hand clenching and unclenching reflexively. Akihito notices a small refrigerator and opens it. Finding an unopened case of bottled water, he pulls one out and holds it out to Asami when he comes close. Asami presses his lips together and shakes his head, but Aki presses it into his hand.

 

“It doesn’t matter who bought it,” he says stubbornly. “You need to drink something. You’re probably dehydrated. Look, it’s unopened…”

 

With a snarl, Asami snatches the bottle from his hand, cracks the seal, and brings it to his lips. Akihito is right, of course, and when the first trickle of water hits his tongue, he finds he’s ravenously thirsty. He downs the bottle in one go. Dropping it, he accepts another when Aki holds it out. He drinks this one more slowly, sipping from it while he paces back and forth, a brooding expression on his face. Feilong leans an elbow on the set of stocks Asami had noted earlier and simply waits patiently. He hasn’t sent the others away and had them remain behind in this place because he enjoys the ambiance. There’s a reason, and Asami will get to it when he’s ready. But Akihito is not so sanguine. His face is filled with anxiety. He longs to go to Asami, to cling to him; touch him and taste him and breathe in the scent of him, all to assure himself that Asami is really okay and that he’s safe. He wants to get out of here, and forget this happened. Thinking of someone doing this to Asami is blasphemous somehow. He doesn’t think he can bear it.

 

“Asami,” he begs, “please...can’t we go home? Let’s just get out of here!”

 

Asami stops moving abruptly. His back is to them. Aki can see the muscles shift as he heaves in a breath, his fists clenching. 

 

“I needed to apologize to you both,” he says finally. His voice is low and raw. There’s so much anger in it that Akihito feels frightened.

 

“Why?” he asks in evident confusion. “You didn’t do anything wrong!”

 

“Yes,” roars Asami, spinning around to face them, his face contorted with rage. “Yes, I did! I let my guard down. I didn’t take the usual precautions because I made assumptions about my safety. I was careless, and it put the two of you through the kind of hell I’ve promised to protect you from. Everything that happened tonight is my fault. Akihito….Feilong...I’m sorry. I give you my word that it will  _ never _ happen again.”

 

Aki can’t bear it any longer. Tears fill his eyes and he runs to Asami, throwing himself at him. Strong arms catch him and haul him close. He feels the small shudder in the strong body when this presses him against Asami’s raw skin, but the arms only tighten when he tries to pull back. Asami’s lips press gently to the top of his head.

 

“It’s all right,” he cries urgently. “You didn’t do anything wrong, and we’re together, and everything’s gonna be okay.” He lifts his head to look up into Asami’s face, a tear sliding down his cheek. Asami chuckles softly.

 

“If you or Feilong had been as careless as I was tonight, allowing yourselves to be taken, I’d be sorely tempted to punish you.” His voice is muffled by Akihito’s hair, but Aki can clearly hear the chagrin in it, and he realizes very suddenly that Asami isn’t angry at Eva Glasser. He’s angry at himself. Blindingly, unforgivingly angry.

 

“Is that what you need?” Feilong’s voice takes on the lazy, amused purr it gets sometimes when he’s feeling mean in all the best ways. He slowly pushes himself upright and strolls towards them. Akihito lets go of Asami and turns to goggle at him. Asami’s golden eyes watch Feilong approach, assessing him. Feilong smirks. “Is that what it will require for you to forgive yourself for being human to we can get out of this filthy basement and go home where you can fuck one or both of us into the surface of your choice until you recover the dominance you foolishly believe you’re not worthy to claim right now?”

 

“Feilong, stop it,” yells Aki, but Asami’s strong hand closes gently on his shoulder. He twists his head to look into the handsome face he loves and is startled by what he sees there. Asami is smirking back at Feilong, a challenging gleam in his eye.

 

“Do you think you have the stones for it, beautiful one?”

 

“If it will help you,” says Feilong softly. 

 

Asami turns from them both and walks over to the pegboard wall where various floggers, crops, paddles and other assorted toys are displayed. Akihito tugs on his arm. Asami looks down at him.

 

“Stop,” he begs. Asami gives him a fleeting, rueful smile.

 

“I can’t expect you to understand,” he says gently, brushing a tear from Aki’s cheek with his thumb. “But I’m going to ask you to accept. It’s...justice.”

 

“I hate this,” Aki complains, then he sighs. He looks down at his feet frowning, then back up at Asami. “But maybe I understand more than you think. It’s like when you said I didn’t want you to punish me to make you feel better, I wanted you to do it to make  _ me _ feel better.”

 

“My wise little Takaba-san. I suppose that’s as close as anyone could hope to come. It’s more than that, but I’m tired, and words seem to want to fail me. Thank you both, by the way, for coming to rescue me.”

 

“It was Aki’s doing,” says Feilong with a careless shrug. His eyes are still watching Asami closely. “He organized the whole thing. The rest of us were just his henchmen.”

 

“My hero,” Asami says softly. Akihito bristles, but Asami doesn’t seem to be mocking him. Strong fingers ruffle his hair gently, and then Asami turns his attention back to the wall. His eyes glance over most of what he sees, dismissing it. The he reaches out and his fingers curl slowly around the handle of a flogger. He hears Akihito’s soft gasp. The flogger is heavy. It’s falls slap the floor when he takes it down, cut from stiff, glossy latigo leather. The tips are cut into points. He holds it out to Feilong, who takes it without hesitation.

 

“I  _ do _ understand it, Shishou*,” he says softly. Asami nods, then looks down at Akihito, who is biting his lips in distress.

 

“Can you bear to stay, my sweet, brave boy? If you need to go upstairs and wait, I won’t hold it against you.”

 

Akihito doesn’t want to stay. He doesn’t want to see this, to watch Asami being beaten, but something tells him it’s important for him to. 

 

“A-are you kidding?” he replies, wanting the words to come out confident and unconcerned, but sounding shaky instead. “I just found you. I’m not letting you out of my sight again now, not untmmphmm…” His words are cut off by Asami’s kiss. He can taste and feel Asami’s anger in it. It’s a savage kiss, one that leaves him breathless and a little unsteady on his feet.  _ Fuck, _ but the man can kiss.

 

“Thank you,” whispers Asami. He walks back over to the cross he’s been so recently freed from and leans against it. He raises his hands a little and wraps his fingers around its crosspieces, turning his head to the side and laying his cheek against the central post that supports it and closing his eyes.

 

“How many?” asks Feilong gently. Asami opens one eye.

 

“I’ll tell you when it’s enough. And Feilong?”

 

“Yes, Asami-sama?”

 

“Don’t you dare half-ass this.”

 

“I would never dream of insulting your honor in such a way.” Feilong’s voice sounds oddly formal to Akihito’s ears. He looks back and forth between his two lovers and realizes that his summary of Asami’s reasons for asking for this is indeed somewhat lacking. It isn’t just about letting Asami forgive himself. They remind him of ancient warriors somehow, when Feilong speaks of honor. Asami feels that his is damaged for reasons Aki knows he doesn’t really get. Asami  _ should _ have been in a safe place. It’s not his fault that he wasn’t. He knows he just doesn’t get it, but Feilong seems to. What he’s preparing to do to Asami isn’t anything like a spanking. Asami doesn’t seem the least bit submissive to it, or to Feilong. He doesn’t seem nervous or afraid, even though Akihito can guess that the thick, heavy strands of latigo are going to hurt him. There’s a dignity to it that he suddenly finds unbearably attractive. Asami is breathtaking like that, and Aki can’t take his eyes off the way the muscles in his back shift as he moves his feet apart a little to brace himself. He’s so consumed with looking at Asami that he doesn’t see Feilong move. He gasps and claps his hand over his mouth to smother the shocked cry that wants to escape when the flogger slashes across Asami’s shoulders. The impact is like a thunderclap, and Asami’s golden skin blossoms dark red in its wake. Individual welts from each strand rise up like angry claw marks. Asami’s skin flinches, but he doesn’t move, and doesn’t make a sound.

 

Akihito forces himself to watch. It’s awful at first, and he realizes that tears are streaming freely down his face, but gradually, he begins to be seduced by it. They are both exquisitely beautiful, in the way that a priceless work of art can be beautiful and also terrible at the same time. Feilong’s motions with the whip are like a dance, his grace and strength both lovely and frightening at the same time. Aki knows that Feilong loves Asami, and has no wish to hurt him, but he never hesitates. Asami, for his part, makes Akihito forget to breathe. Every muscle in his arms is bunched tight as he grips the wood in front of him with all his strength. He has turned his head away, let it fall forward so that he presses his forehead against the post. He does not move an inch, and makes no sound, though his shoulders and back are crosshatched with dark, angry weals. Aki thinks he suddenly understands what people mean when they talk about grace in suffering. He doesn’t know how many times Feilong lets the whip fly. Ten times? Twenty? A thousand? It almost seems that way, seems endless and awful, but also terribly beautiful.

 

“Enough.” Asami’s voice is ragged, rough and raw with strain. Feilong drops the flogger to the floor where it makes a kind of nasty thwapping sound like a hooked fish’s last flail. He goes to Asami’s side and falls to his knees next to him, leaning his forehead against Asami’s hip. Asami almost seems to have to pry his fingers from the frame of the cross. His hand falls on the top of Feilong’s head. “Thank you,” he whispers. Feilong looks up at him, taking Asami’s hand in both of his, pressing his lips to it.

 

“You’re welcome. But if it’s all the same to you, I’d just as soon not have to do anything like that again for a very long time.”

 

Asami chuckles softly.

 

“Forever is a very long time. My word on it. Now stand up. I’m going to thank you properly, and I’m not sure I have the strength to pull you up here by your hair. Yet.”

 

Feilong gets to his feet while Asami lets go of the cross with his other hand as well and turns to face him. He moves slowly, carefully, and Aki can see the flicker of pain in his face, but his hands slide gently into Feilong’s hair and he covers the other man’s mouth with his own, kissing him deeply. Akihito doesn’t think he’s ever stood across a room like this and just watched Asami kissing. His breath catches and he feels a tiny spark ignite in his belly. When Asami releases Feilong, his head turns and his eyes fall on Aki where he stands leaning against a support post of the stairs. 

 

“Akihito. Come here.”

 

Aki doesn’t hesitate, hurrying to his side. There is heat coming off Asami’s body more tangibly than he’s ever felt before, and he complains all the time at night that the man is a fucking furnace. But the rage is gone, and Asami’s amber eyes are peaceful. Akihito goes up on tiptoes when Asami bends his head down, meeting him halfway and returning the kiss he offers with a wildness that surprises him. When one of Asami’s hands closes over his hip to pull him close, he presses his body firmly against him, sucking Asami’s bottom lip into his mouth and nipping at it gently. Asami hums softly into the kiss and then pulls back to look at him, one eyebrow lifting.

 

“What’s this? Did watching such a thing excite you?”

 

“It’s not that,” says Akihito quickly, with a tiny negative head shake, frowning a little because he’s not sure how to put it into words. “It was...it was terrible and beautiful at the same time. It didn’t excite me that way. I just...I need to touch you. I need to feel it with my hands….feel your skin...and know you’re okay. Ugh, that sounds stupid.”

 

“No!” Asami cuts him off. “No. I understand. All right then. Touch me.” Carefully, he leans back against the cross, a tiny hiss of pain escaping his lips when his back touches it. He raises his arms again and takes hold of the crossbars once more, his eyes almost challenging, as if to say,  _ Will you dance? _

 

Aki reaches out with one finger and softly traces one of the lines on Asami’s chest that Eva had made with her whip. Some of them are already beginning to fade. He glances up at Asami’s face, but it tells him nothing. Then those sinful lips curl slowly into a smile. Akihito’s fingers grow bolder. They map every mark, brushing softly, and drift over the mounds and hollows of muscle and bone. Asami sighs softly. When his hands reach the waistband of Asami’s pants, Akihito slowly tugs his belt free, then slips the top button through its hole. His eyes roll up to stare into Asami’s eyes as he sinks to his knees. Tooth by tooth, he draws the zipper down, with Asami watching him. Slowly, he reaches into the waistband of Asami’s boxer briefs and pulls out his cock. It’s beginning to swell, but not all the way hard yet. He hadn’t been aroused in the least by what he’d asked Feilong to do for him, but Akihito’s touch is a different matter. Boldly, Aki leans forward and sucks Asami’s cock into his mouth. This is the only time he can take all of it, before it is fully erect. He sucks it down until Asami’s pubic hair tickles his nose, the broad head bumping the back of his throat. He opens his jaws wider, yawning a little so that his throat opens too, and swallows around it. Asami growls softly and his hips roll gently. Akihito curls his fingers around Asami’s hips, his fingernails digging in just a little. Moments later, he has to pull his head back, coughing a little, his eyes watering, as Asami’s cock swells too much for him to swallow. He sticks out his tongue and darts it into the slit at the head, where moisture beads, taking it into his mouth. He lets go of Asami’s hip with one hand and wraps it around the heavy shaft. His index finger and thumb don’t quite meet. Slowly, he strokes his hand up and down, taking the head back into his mouth and sucking harder, using the flat of his tongue to stroke the small knot of nerve endings under the glans. Asami says his name softly. He lets go of the cross with his right hand and his fingers tangle in Aki’s hair. Akihito pulls his mouth off of Asami’s cock with an filthy pop and looks up at him.

 

“Please, I want you.”

 

Asami’s tiger eyes burn down on him with a wildness he seldom sees. Before he’s even aware the larger man is moving, he finds himself hauled up off the floor and thrown facedown over the spanking bench, his breath exploding from his lungs when his stomach collides with it hard, shoving the heavy apparatus forward several inches. His pants are yanked down and Asami’s hands dig into the flesh of his ass, spreading him. He feels the cool air of the basement drift across his hole and his skin pebbles. Then he whines softly when Asami lets go of him, and cranes his neck to see the man at a small shelf that stands in the corner a few feet away, which houses several bottles. He picks one up and frowns at it, then unscrews the pop top. When he finds it covered by a silver safety seal, he grins and tears it away, then screws the cap back on. Akihito shivers at the expression on his face when Asami turns back to him. Fear and excitement tangle inside him, but then there’s no more time to think because Asami is on him, two fingers, slick and cool, shoving into him roughly. They twist and curl, and Aki cries out, bucking into the touch. The fingers are withdrawn and Asami’s hands settle on his hips. The head of his cock, wide and slippery, presses against his hole gently for a few seconds. Asami’s fingers flex. Aki catches his breath. He knows what’s coming. They’ve been here before. 

 

He’s not afraid anymore. Not of the pain Asami gives him, or of the pleasure, which once upon a time had frightened him more. Not afraid of the heat between them, no longer fearing he’ll be consumed. Asami burns so bright, but that light and that heat are home now, safety. No longer a fire he tries to keep from burning him. He screams when Asami shoves into him, and tears fill his eyes at the burn and the stretch of it, but it's exactly what he wants. 

 

“AH! Yes... _ oh f-fuck _ ...Asami...harder!”

 

Asami’s dark laugh seems to shiver over his skin and he tilts Aki’s hips up and slams into him harder. He sees stars as the angle causes each brutal thrust to hit him just the right way so that pleasure drowns the pain. He grasps the legs of the horse and tries to brace himself so he can push back against it, not just be taken along for a ride, but participate in his own ravishment.

 

“I have you,” snarls Asami. “Get your hand on your cock, you dirty little boy. This isn’t going to take long.”

 

Akihito moans helplessly at the words and does as Asami orders him, reaching down between his legs to stroke his own aching arousal fast and hard, his fist slapping against his stomach, quickly slicked with his own need, trusting Asami to hold him steady. And he does, driving into Aki’s body harder and harder, a snarl in his throat. All the worry and fear and intensity of this night have wound Akihito tighter than a steel spring, and in almost no time he’s screaming, screaming Asami’s name while his hole grips and spasms around the punishing cock filling him over and over, coming so hard his vision tunnels to white. Asami’s snarl turns into a shout and Aki feels the warmth of his release filling him. Asami steadies him long enough to make sure he’s not going to topple off the padded bench, then his palms slap down on the leather, framing Akihito’s body as he leans on them heavily, panting. Neither of them move for some time. Then, soon after he’s just starting to remember how to breathe, he feels Asami press a gentle kiss between his shoulders. He’s picked up and set down again, upright. Asami steps between his knees and takes him into his arms. Aki throws his own arms around Asami’s neck and buries his face against warm skin, breathing in his scent. 

 

“Thank you.” Asami’s voice rumbles against his cheek.

 

“What for?”

 

“For all of it. For rescuing me from becoming the kept slaveboy of a crazy woman…”

 

Aki snorts with mirth at the very idea of this, but Asami goes on.

 

“For standing by me, for...staying to watch, to see me through. I could bear it, because I knew you were here. For not turning away from the beast in me.”

 

“You’re  _ my _ beast,” says Akihito softly. These are the sorts of words he’ll usually pull away from, but he doesn’t want to now. Asami laughs, and kisses him. He sits up a little and looks around.

 

“Where’s Feilong?”

 

“He went upstairs right about the time you got down on your knees.”

 

“It’s not like he had to leave.” 

 

“It’s all right. He told me he wanted you to have this time. But we should go up and get him. I want to go home.”

 

Aki doesn’t wonder too much about how Feilong had managed to communicate this to Asami. He’s seen them making some kind of hand signs to each other before. They help each other up the stairs and find Feilong lounging on a sofa in the living room of the rented house. He’s talking to Yoh on the phone, but says goodbye and stands up when he sees them. They walk to the car he and Yoh had driven, and Feilong drives them home as the sun is coming over the horizon. Akihito is too tired to worry about this. Feilong doesn't have his license, but apparently does know at least a little about how to handle a car, as they make it home in one piece.

 

Some hours later, Asami wakes up. The sun is well up in the sky. His arms and legs feel heavy. He looks down and huffs out a soft laugh. Both Akihito and Feilong have turned to him in their sleep, each of them throwing an arm and a leg over some part of his body, pinning him down. They’ve never done this before. He wonders if he’s going to have to get used to it, them subconsciously reassuring themselves that he’s there between them. He finds he doesn’t mind at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Shishou means "master" in Japanese, but not as one would call a Dominant. I don't actually know if there IS a word for that. I used sensei in my earlier storie, but I've found out that it's wrong. I just really hate going back and editing. ANYway...Shishou means master as in someone who teaches, but with more respect than like a school teacher. It's for, as an example, a martial arts instructor, who has had to work VERY hard to get to that level. Feilong chooses this term because he's assuring Asami that he's taught him well, and that he does understand what Asami needs him to do, and that he can handle it.
> 
> Also, sorry if the lack of violence was disappointing to anyone. That wasn't the point here. In fact, the point WAS for it not to be a life threatening situation. I think life threatening gets a little repetitive if I keep doing it over and over, especially with kidnappings. So Asami's life was never going to be in actual danger. Plus I have this secret kink for breathtakingly hot men tied to whipping posts and taking it...well, like the men they are. Just hella hot.


End file.
